The Suck Followed Me Home!

Reminder: Must Add Bacon Salt To NyQuil...

Wow. Didja know that if you take a quadruple dose of Nyquil, dark rum, cough syrup and Mucinex, your sinuses are dry as a bone, but for 10 hours you have an overwhelming desire to hang upside down like a bat, consume ice cubes by the handful, and utter the occasional "Wooble."

I'm just glad I had that brief detour into recreational pharmacology in the 80's for on-the-job training, or that might have been a bad trip, indeed.

Friday, February 27, 2009

F'ed In The A

How Does One Turn Off This Phlegm Spigot??

BOHICA.

RUTA.

When situations start to go seriously awry, I'm not quite sure when or how we started associating that with unplanned anal intercourse. After all, when it's a minor annoyance, it just sucks. It takes a certain level of violation and discomfort to rate a label like "taking it up the tailpipe."

Unless, of course, you work for The Man. In that case, the chances of being forcibly boarded by the Unionized Battalion of Municipal Ass Pirates are so common that all you can really do is take out gap insurance on your balloon knot and buy stock in whoever makes Preparation H.

Case in point...

I request politely for someone in charge of such matters to let us know when the Houston Rodeo trailride wil be taking over the employee parking lot so I can either schedule a day off, or ride the bus. It's a complete PITA to try and park with all the horses everywhere, and you end up parking wedged up against some shit-covered stock trailer.

So, on my arrival this morning, guess what I was greeted with? 8 acres of country bumpkins and their assorted regalia. No notice whatsoever. Horse hockey up to your ankles. Gahhh....

Adding to the joy and misery (I'm still way under the weather...) I get notice that I'm moving offices again. Some assclown from the Buttonsorting & Beancounting department was counting ceiling tiles, and noticed that he had only 30 tiles in his office, while there were a few people on my floor who had 40, nay, even 45 tiles in theirs! Outrage!!

It turns out there is some obscure regulation tying your pay grade with the allowable square footage of office space. Does it matter that due to frequent visitations from citizens who inhabit powered wheelchairs & scooters, I have more than my alloted floorspace in order that they may enter & exit freely? NO!! sez the Beancounter. A paygrade 20 with a 10x16 office? OUTRAGE!!!

So, I'm being evicted. Good thing I never unpacked after the last move. As they say, hard work often pays off after time, but laziness always pays off now.

I'm sure I'll get out to the parking lot this evening and find some cowpoke has used the bed of my truck for a latrine. Sigh. I thought it was Mondays that were supposed to suck...

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Caught By Creeping Crud!

Phlegm - $5.00 Per Quart! This Week Only!

Creeping Crud. That's what Mom calls the icky sludge that starts in your sinuses, then creeps down your neck to settle in your lungs, oozing pestilential spores along the way. The best part is when gangs of bacilli roto-rooter your larynx, then bum-rush your Eustachian tubes, spreading the funk to your inner ears.

Mangia! Mangia!

Now, I Just Need Monica Bellucci For A Dinner Date...

Prior commitments kept me tethered to Houston this weekend instead of escaping to Salado with Cisco Kid, Festus & Zibig for a 3 day LAN party at Doc's place. I have yet to hear from any of the players, so I'm assuming they made it back in one piece, and are not still locked in mortal FPS combat.

I scored a couple of DVDs at the used video shop. Steve Martin's 1991 film 'L.A. Story', which has not aged well, and John Sayles' film 'Lone Star' which is still pretty sharp. They had a copy of 'Shallow Grave', a brilliant film directed by Danny Boyle, who won an Oscar last night for directing 'Slumdog Millionaire'.

I would have loved to buy it, but they were asking $37 for a used copy. Ouch. More than I want to spend on a single DVD!

After that, it was off to inspect an Italian eatery called Piatto. I'd spotted it recently while out looking for a cigar shop on Westheimer between Kirkwood & Wilcrest. It appears to be part of the Carrabba family of eateries.

I got there about 8:30, and the place was nearly deserted. Seemed odd for a Friday night. Most places were packed to the gills. Service was good, food was great, prices not too bad. Maybe the location?

Anyway, I had the asparagus appetizer. There was a big ol' pile of huge spears, each lightly breaded & fried, then covered with a delicious lemon butter sauce and an obscenely huge pile of lump crabmeat. Best $12 I've spent in a long while. I just hope I didn't make piggy noises while scooping up the lemony buttery crabmeat...

Entree was a huge slab of sea bass covered with a mango/avocado/red pepper salsa & a side of broccoli. The sea bass was really tasty, big firm flakes of fish just barely cooked through. Now, whether it was really sea bass or "Chilean sea bass" aka Patagonian toothfish, I can't really say.

Dessert was a huge slab of bread pudding with a bourbon glaze, served a la mode. It was really good, but I think I'm going to develop a way to form bread pudding into bowls and serve the ice cream inside, rather than let it melt on the plate and make a gooey mess.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Anybody Know How To Hijack A Truck?

"If The Oceans Were Whiskey And I Was A Duck,I'd Dive To The Bottom And Never Come Up!"

Just got a call from Rockhauler. He's taking a break from hauling rocks to help out with some local overflow. He wanted to brighten my day by letting me know that he's hauling a truckload of Maker's Mark bourbon to a liquor wholesaler's warehouse.

No shit... an entire shipping container of that wondrous nectar of the gods.

Let's see... Two pallets wide by 10 deep in a container. Probably stacked 5 cases high on the pallet. 6 cases per layer seems about right. With twelve 750 ml bottles per case, that comes to 360 bottles per pallet, or 7200 bottles in the container. 5400 liters. 1426.5 gallons.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Isn't It Ironic?

I've long had a gripe about my boss plopping down on a chair in my office and gabbling away for 30 to 90 minutes a day. It's not that I can't rearrange my day around it, but there's absolutely no regard given for my scheduled lunch hour, my departure at day's end, my need to run to the Necessary Room, none of that. Just Blahblahblahblahblah about whatever suits her fancy until I can surreptitiously tap out an email one letter at a time to a co-worker to rescue me via an "important phone call", or her schedule forces an exit.

OK, so... yesterday in the middle of the Daily Pontification, she starts in on how she's read this study that most office workers only work 4 hours out of an eight hour day. You might think you're at your desk for 8 hours, but due to personal phone calls, websurfing, going to make copies and visiting co-workers along the way, and PEOPLE DROPPING BY YOUR OFFICE TO CHAT (She says without a trace of awareness...) you lose half your day.

Y'all need to come see my desk. I swear to you there's finger grooves in the hardwood where I was clutching it in order to avoid bursting into bitter tears or hysterical laughter, whichever came out first...

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

You Want Me To Scrub *WHAT*??

Five Time Winner Of The Bad Housekeeping Award!!

I've always been somewhat indifferent to housecleaning. Oh, I'll wash dishes when the pile crests over the lip of the sink, and take the trash out when I can't manage to stuff another thing into the can. I'll attack the terlit with a scrub brush and can of Ajax when it looks like it's about to grow tentacles, and give the shower & sink a scrubbing every so often.

Vacuuming? That machine only sees the light of day about 30 minutes before guests arrive. Ditto for dusting. Frankly, I've got better things to do with my weekend than cleaning windowblinds and polishing the bathroom mirror.

Now, I recognize that most people have a lower tolerance for a bit of dust and clutter. I accept that. However, as an owner of shedding pets, I've long ago learned to live with a slightly elevated level of free-ranging cat hair and kitty spittle.

There are certain cleaning chores that absolutely mystify me, though.

F'rinstance... Who in their right mind scrubs baseboards? I think I'd rather have repeated colonoscopy scans than get down on my hands and knees and wash 1200 linear feet of baseboard. Since when did baseboards collect an amount of dirt & grime that necessitated cleaning in the entire lifespan of the house??

Better yet, what kind of sad deranged asshat goes to visit someone in their home, and while they're there surreptitiously inspects their baseboards for cleanliness, and makes value judgements based on that information? "I'm sorry, Margaret. We've blackballed you from the Junior League because your baseboards don't meet our standards of cleanliness."

Sigh. I can hear my mother now... "I will not have people come visit a filthy house!"

Fine. Cluttered? Yes. Dusty? Perhaps, in the remote corners. Filthy? No. No vermin to be found, and while you won't want to eat off the kitchen floor, you could dump a ladle of stew onto the kitchen counter, lap it up and suffer no ill effects.

Like it or lump it, kiddies. I spent too many summers in a dirt-floored tent to get worked up over a bit of dust.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Vision Test

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Where's El Capitan?

Don't Give Your Sweetie VD On Valentine's Day!

Not a lot of posting this week. Things are a bit bizarre at work. I've been out on the road most of last week, and it's thrown me off my usual routine.

I keep hoping there'll be a slowdown for a week or so, but we just got word that one of The Man's larger departments is mandating some behavioral training ASAP, so the roadshow will continue, it seems.

Far be it from me to dictate how you run your department, but it seems to me spending a week focusing on the problem cases instead of subjecting 3500 people to 2 hours of Powerpoint Hell over the span of the next 12 weeks would be more efficient.

Whoops, there I go again, using logic and rational thought. I should know by now that sort of thing isn't allowed by The Man...

Part of me rejoices at the thought of the death of soulless elevator music. OTOH, without the random spurts of anger provided by the sudden realization that Muzak has castrated yet another favorite song from my youth, I might slow my progress towards Complete Curmudgeon.

Never Iron Naked

I lifted these pics from eBay, where the wood-cased model in question was selling for about a C-note. Mine looks much better than this one, due to fairly frequent applications of furniture polish and my strict policy of never, ever ironing anything at all. Hey, I'm wrinkled, but happy.

The Ironrite works by heating up an ironing plate, and having a rotating roller drag your clothing along that plate, and coming out wrinkle-free.

Now, I'm not sure of what automatic safety devices are installed in Mangle Irons, but I'm guessing that since most of them were made in the 30's & 40's, there wasn't much thought given to stray appendages being hauled into the pressworks. Hence, the title of the post, Never Iron Naked!

I've used my Ironrite as a minibar, a TV stand, a bookshelf, and a serving table. Mostly, though, it's a conversation piece, where I throw back the lid and ask "So, guess what this is!"

Hmmm... y'know, the cats are looking awfully wrinkled. I bet if I set it to a low heat setting, they'd feed right through!

Stove & Vent-A-Hood gets its own cubbyhole, with tile accents to match. Shelving for pans to go to right of stove.

Sink closeup with overhead spotlight. And dirty dishes. Sorry...

Pantry wall tiled to ceiling, with accent spotlighting. There will be glass shelves installed between pantry & cupboard for dishes & serving bowls.

All pantry shelves and undercounter cupboards have these pull-out storage racks. No more climbing stepstools to reach the very back of the top shelf, nor getting down on your hands & knees to pull that last bottle of juice from the back of the cabinet!

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

2009 Jimmy Buffett Tour Dates!!

Grab Your Fin & Form A Conga Line!

Via the Coconut Modem mailing list, I'm pleased to deliver the list of dates & venues for Jimmy Buffett's 2009 tour. For complete details, including the dates that tickets are for sale, visit Buffett's official site, Margaritaville.com

If you haven't had the pleasure of being a Parrothead for an evening, I strongly urge you to don a grass skirt and a Hi-woyan floweredy shirt, guzzle a gallon of something cool, alcoholic & tropical, and go have a blast!

More Facebook Follies

OK, I'm entering week two on Facebook, and I still have control of all my bodily functions, and my soul seems to be intact.

The shine's wearing off the Facebook experience, I have to say. My new friend links have dropped off to nothing. Haven't had a new one in several days.

This is partly my doing. I'm resisting the urge to friend-link everyone I know that shows up in the "You might know this person" section. I've had a couple of people link to me as a friend, and I honestly don't know them from Adam. I hate being the jerkoff that won't link to someone, but I kind of feel that they're using their relationship with a real friend of mine to gain an extra friend link and boost their overall "Score".

My blog is enough of an extroversion for me. It drains me at times... I can't do FB for real, as me, or I'll end up in a dark corner somewhere, rocking back and forth, wishing it would go away.

Amen to that. I used to wonder why so many people had the potential to be great bloggers, yet posted so rarely. Turns out they're all over at Facebook flinging virtual crap at each other. Maybe I'm just envious of the few that have the time & energy to both blog and maintain a busy Facebook presence. In my case, Facebook has cut into my blog reading bandwidth, and I'm not real happy with that.

Ah, well. It's all a balancing act. I'll find the happy medium somewhere along the way.

In the meantime, though, no beads, no pillows, no Mob Wars, no tchotchkes flung at me. It's not that I don't appreciate you thinking about me, but I had enough of that silly shit on IRC back in the 90's.